


Tales of the Death Hunters: Dark Legacy

by cambangst



Series: Tales of the Death Hunters [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, Community: HPFT, Dark Magic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cambangst/pseuds/cambangst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>As always, that which you recognize from the books belongs to JK Rowling</p>
    </blockquote>





	Tales of the Death Hunters: Dark Legacy

**Author's Note:**

> As always, that which you recognize from the books belongs to JK Rowling

A pair of soft pops unsettled the still forest night, startling a flock of birds from their roost. The sound was muffled by the dense flora, but even so the two cloaked figures turned warily on their heels, peering into the darkness. The taller of the two raised a thin stick above his head, and with a whispered word a bright glow illuminated the surrounding trees. His companion completed her visual sweep of the area and together they set off down the rough hewn forest path.

 

“Maybe I’m being thick,” the taller figure murmured, sweeping the light over the rocky earth, “but I still don’t understand why we couldn’t apparate into the village.”

 

“There’s a lot of history between these people and the Ministry,” his companion responded, carefully stepping over a twisted tree root. “If we want their help, we can’t just pop in unannounced.”

 

The pair continued in silence for a few moments. “Seems like a pretty harsh life,” the wizard observed. “Living in the woods like this, always moving around, avoiding the muggles _and_ other witches and wizards.”

 

“They’ve lived like this for hundreds of years,” the witch replied. “When the Statute of Secrecy was adopted, most of us chose to hide in plain sight. They didn’t want to conform. They chose this life instead.”

 

The path grew steeper for a short time, forcing both of them to carefully mind their footing. “And the Ministry just allows them to go on like this? I mean, living by yourself off in the woods is one thing, but we’re talking about entire families here. Children.”

 

As the path leveled off, a shaft of moonlight pierced the canopy and illuminated the witch’s blonde hair. She shrugged her shoulders. “The parents school their own children. It isn’t common in our world, but it’s not unheard of. Old pureblood families have been known to hire private tutors if their children don’t excel at Hogwarts.”

 

“Or if they get drummed out,” the wizard responded. He removed a fallen tree branch from the path with a wave of his wand. “So how do they teach the kids magic without getting swarms of howlers? You’d think it would set off the Trace constantly.”

 

“I’m not even sure we can detect it,” his companion admitted. “Most of the wands they use have been passed down through the family for centuries. Too old to have been registered with the Ministry. That’s how children in old pureblood families get away with doing magic at home,” she added.

 

“As though you lot don’t have enough perks,” the wizard answered with a wry smile. “It just seems odd. The Ministry’s not known for being hands off about this sort of thing. Too many aspiring Dolores Umbridges trying to make a name for themselves.”

 

The blonde witch wrinkled her nose with distaste, but her facial expression quickly became more pensive. “It’s not a comfortable problem to confront. We all get a laugh about how the muggles imagine us. Old crones with warts on their noses, huddled around boiling cauldrons. Evil sorcerers with pointed beards placing curses on their enemies. The rest of us left that all behind centuries ago, but these people still look and act the part. Working with them, trying to get them to change... it’s not really a stepping stone to the Minister’s office.”

 

“It’s not glamorous work,” the wizard quietly agreed. “How did Avery’s family get mixed up with them? His father was one of the Dark Lord’s First Five, the original Death Eaters. Why would an old family of pureblood fanatics associate with people like this?”

 

A whisper of movement brought the pair to a stop. The blonde witch swept her wandlight over the dense foliage. A pair of eyes momentarily glinted back at them. An instant later, the fox fled into the depths of the forest. “That’s another reason the Ministry has traditionally turned a blind eye to them,” the blonde witch answered with a small sigh of relief. “If you think about it, these primitives are among the purest of the purebloods. Their blood lines have been isolated for three centuries or more. So when an old family can’t find a wife for one of their sons, _arrangements_ can be made with one of the primitive clans.”

 

A long moment passed while the wizard took in his companion’s explanation. “So you’re saying that Avery’s father was such a wally that his family had to flog out here and _buy_ a wife for him?” He shook his head slowly. “That is so pathetic on so many levels.”

 

“It’s horrible.” There was more than a hint of anger in the blonde witch’s voice. “Imagine being the poor girl who got married off to him. She must have been terrified, not that it mattered to her family. For a handful of gold, they sent her off with a violent sociopath who worshiped Voldemort.”

 

“The more I learn about pureblood tradition, the happier I am to be muggle-born,” the wizard replied. “All the more reason the Ministry should step in, if you ask me.”

 

“The odds are better now that the Ministry will intervene,” the witch replied, still sounding sour, “but it’s not because anyone suddenly took an interest their welfare. Voldemort’s mother’s family, the Gaunts, were also primitives of a sort. They didn’t live out in the woods like these people, but they kept to the old ways and raised their children on a spoon-fed diet of dark magic and blood purity rubbish. They brutalized Voldemort’s mother because they thought she was a squib. You could make an argument that Voldemort never would have been born if the Ministry had gotten her away from her family at a young age.”

 

“Do you buy it?”

 

A long moment passed. The wizard was starting to wonder whether his companion would answer. “Dumbledore believed it,” she hedged. “According to Harry, he spent a lot of time studying Voldemort’s past, looking for the moments where things could have turned out differently.”

 

“Fair enough, but I didn’t ask about Dumbledore.”

 

The blonde witch took a few more steps in silence. “I don’t know. There’s a school of thought that says outcomes as awful as Voldemort’s rise to power are more than just the sum of the moments leading up to them. That the particular series of individual choices is irrelevant. The argument says that the environment creates the atrocities, not the other way around. In other words, even if Voldemort had never existed, some other dark wizard would have filled that role because the conflict itself was inevitable.” She stared straight ahead for a few moments, then closed her eyes and shook her head. “The point is, Minister Shacklebolt buys it. Or at least he buys it enough that he’s willing to challenge the Ministry’s traditional approach.”

 

“I tend to agree with him,” her companion replied. “I’m not much of a philosopher, but my dad always said that every horrible person has a horrible story that made them who they are.”

 

“Look, over there.” The wizard followed the blonde witch’s outstretched finger with his eyes. The path widened after the next bend and the forest seemed to grow less dense. He thought he could make out flickers of firelight through the trees.

 

“If it’s all the same to you, you can do the talking,” he suggested, sliding his wand into the holster hidden in his sleeve. “Don’t want the poor, hapless muggle-born offending them with my ignorance.”

 

The blonde witch grinned at him as she tucked her own wand away. “Your ignorance is rather charming, actually.”

 

“At least I’ve got that going for me.”

 

A short while later, the pair emerged into a clearing in the forest. Their eyes were immediately drawn to the massive iron cauldron that dominated the center of the ramshackle village. It was a great, ugly thing -- dented, uneven and dotted with patches of rust. The fire burning beneath it hissed angrily. Streaks of green, blue and purple wove through the orange flames, obvious indicators of the presence of magic. Tending the fire were three old crones. Their weathered, pockmarked faces were the only thing exposed by the soot-stained, threadbare smocks that covered them from head to toe.

 

Forcing himself to tear his eyes away from the cauldron, the wizard scanned the rest of the village. Simple huts formed a loose circle around the center. The mud walls and thatch roofs were plainly held together by magic; a stiff breeze might have toppled them otherwise. A handful of young girls were playing at gobstones in a space between two of the huts. They appeared dirty and underfed, but otherwise happy. The older children cast the stones while the youngsters looked on, laughing gleefully every time a lost stone spit putrid slime at its former owner.

 

“Pray tell, what brings you here?”

 

It took every last bit of the wizard’s control not to summon his wand from its hiding place as he spun around to face the person who’d spoken. She was a young woman -- girl, really -- and he guessed that she couldn’t have been more than fifteen. It was hard to judge, since the hardships of her life were starkly written across her face. Her straight, black hair hung limply to her shoulders, and her large, green eyes were unadorned by any sort of makeup. She was rail-thin with the exception of her belly, which plainly showed her advanced pregnancy.

 

The blonde witch took half a step closer to the girl. The broad smile that settled across her face would have fooled her companion if he hadn’t known her so well. “We need to speak to a relative of yours, and we were wondering whether you’d heard from him recently. This is Justin, and my name is Susan.”

 

The young woman nervously fingered the dangling links of a heavy chain draped around her slender neck. The links were coarsely forged from gold and worn smooth by time. Justin guessed that it had been passed down through many generations. “My relatives live here, in the village,” she finally replied, looking confused. “I speak to them every day.” 

 

Her response sounded genuine, but it was delivered a bit too easily. Susan seemed to have reached the same conclusion and she pressed on. “The relative we’re looking for is a little more distant. His mother was born in your village, but she left when she married his father. This would have happened long before you were born.”

 

“Oh.” Realization lit the young woman’s eyes, followed by a flash of discomfort. It was gone an instant later, but Justin was sure that Susan couldn’t have missed it. “She would be one of our lost sisters, then. When one of us leaves the village, they’re no longer part of our family.”

 

Justin felt a flash of anger. He pressed it down, trying to keep his voice neutral. “That’s... _strange_.” Susan gave him a quick glance of concern, but he was already painfully aware that he hadn’t been able to fully keep the annoyance out of his voice. Redoubling his attempt to sound cordial, he added, “Why wouldn’t your family keep in touch with them after they leave?”

 

The young woman lowered her eyes for a moment, looking uncomfortable. Justin shot a contrite look back at his companion. If they’d come all this way only to have him ruin their chances-

 

“It isn’t like that,” the young woman said without looking up. “Not the way you’re thinking, anyway.” She lifted her chin, meeting Justin’s curious stare. “We honor the sacrifice that our lost sisters make. Without them, our family wouldn’t be able to continue living as we do. But once they’re married, their first loyalty must be to their husband. That is the duty of a proper wife. Our first loyalty is to our family. Our lost sisters have a new family, a new duty. It’s the only proper way.”

 

Justin nodded slowly. He could follow her logic, even if he found the principles it rested on repugnant. She sounded like a pampered pureblood daughter with a head full of antiquated ideals and fairytale endings. It was an odd thing to find in a squalid village that was barely holding its own against the encroaching edges of the forest.

 

“We understand. We’re not here to pass judgment on your customs.” Susan sounded quite sincere even though Justin was sure that she felt nothing of the sort. “The wizard we’re looking for has disappeared, so we’re searching all of the places he might have visited. Are you familiar with the name Avery? Perhaps your family elders would remember him.”

 

The shadow of discomfort once again passed over the young woman’s face. Her thin fingers worried at the links of her necklace. “You need to speak to Ealdemo'or. She is very old. Many of our lost sisters grew up at her knee. But...” The shadow settled onto her face and this time it did not pass. “But her time of passing on is near.”

 

“I’m very sorry to hear that,” Susan replied. This time, Justin was sure that the sympathy in her voice was genuine. “If she would be able to talk to us, we would be in your debt.”

 

The young woman allowed her necklace to slip from her fingers. “Come with me. I will ask whether Ealdemo'or is able to receive visitors.”

 

The two Aurors fell into step as the young woman walked toward the center of the village. Justin struggled to think of something to say. Whether you were interrogating a suspect or interviewing a witness, it was always a good idea to keep the conversation going. You never knew what might slip out. He was about to fall back on a lame observation about the weather when Susan came to the rescue. “Ealdemodor is Old English for grandmother, correct?” Their guide nodded in response. “Is she your grandmother?”

 

For a moment, the young woman stared upward, her eyes unfocused. “Ealdemo'or is four generations my elder. No, wait. Five generations.” She smiled shyly, stubbing her toe against the ground. “I lose track sometimes. Ealdemo'or raised everyone in our family. She watches the young ones while the adults gather food and tend the fire.” The smile died away, replaced by a look of sad longing. “At least she did. Soon, she’ll pass on.”

 

“I’m sure you wanted your little one to get to know her,” Susan responded gently. Justin marveled at the effortless way she steered the conversation toward the young woman’s obvious pregnancy. He wasn’t sure whether it was a witch thing or just a Susan thing, but never in a thousand tries would he have been able to change topics so smoothly.

 

A hint of the smile made its way back into the girl’s eyes and she absently caressed her swollen belly. “I believe he will. Our family has an old tradition, the passing of an elder is always preceded by the birth of a son. It has always been that way, since long before Ealdemo’or’s time.”

 

No matter his discomfort, Justin found that he hoped she was correct. He’d been fortunate enough to know three of his great grandparents. It pained him a little that they’d passed before he found out he was a wizard. Sometimes he felt jealous of his friends from magical families. Many of their great great grandparents had lived long past their one hundredth birthdays.

 

They were getting near the center of the village and Justin studied the three old witches who tended the great cauldron. One of them appeared to be near his mother’s age, the second in her sixties and the third looked impossibly old, with thin, white hair and deep wrinkles lining her weathered face. Their coarse, black smocks were threadbare, patched here and there with thick strands of coarse yarn. The two younger witches maintained the fire, casting red and purple spells that made the flames twist and swirl beneath the sooty iron bottom of the cauldron. Even from twenty paces away, Justin could feel the heat against his face. The oldest crone’s face was twisted in a mask of stern concentration as she slowly circled her wand to control the thick, metal rod that stirred the potion they were brewing. Based on the end protruding from the surface of the churning liquid, it appeared to be very old and probably goblin-crafted.

 

“Matill!” the girl cried out. Her gold chain slid back and forth over her belly as she waved her arm. “Matill!” The youngest witch noticed the girl’s gestures and stepped to the side, nudging her companion. The two witches shared a look for a moment and then the youngest took complete control of the fire while her elder stepped away. As she stalked toward them, Justin noted that the witch called Matill also wore a gold chain although hers appeared shorter than Leda’s. He wondered whether there were multiple family lines among the villagers.

 

Matill’s face twisted into a menacing scowl as she came closer. “Leda! You know Ealdemo’or’s time of passing is near. The outsiders must leave at once.”

 

“They’ve come with questions about one of our lost sisters. They say she was wedded to a wizard named Avery. Ealdemo’or will remember.”

 

Matill’s eyes narrowed in response to the young girl’s request. Then her face hardened. “Ealdemo’or can no longer answer. She is ready to pass on. Prepare yourself for the ritual. I will deal with _them_.”

 

Justin let his arm brush against his side, taking comfort from the feeling of his wand holster passing over his hip. The older woman’s disposition was anything but friendly. She was still holding the wand she’d been using to cast the spells that stoked the fire. It appeared to be made of maple and worn smooth from centuries of use.

 

“This is a sacred time,” Matill declared, raising her stern voice so they could hear her over the hiss and roar of the flames. “We do not share our rituals with outsiders. You may leave in peace or not, as you choose, but you will leave.”

 

A number of other witches were making their way out of the meager dwellings that surrounded the village center. Justin was beginning to feel that they were at a distinct disadvantage if the confrontation turned ugly. He did his best to maintain a neutral demeanor. Beside him, Susan returned the older witch’s heated glare with a calm expression. Leda made to slip past Susan and rejoin her family, but Susan caught the sleeve of her dress, forcing her to pause.

 

“What is her role in this ritual?” Susan kept her voice even, but there was a note of steel running beneath her words. “She’s obviously in her third trimester and she’s a child besides. Are you sure there’s no risk to her or the baby?”

 

Justin could see the fear in Leda’s large, green eyes. She tugged her arm, but Susan didn’t let go of her sleeve.

 

“Leda’s safety is not your concern,” Matill snapped. “You are meddling in things you do not understand. Go, or you leave us with few options.”

 

Justin didn’t really feel like finding out what other options the old witch was considering. But if she thought she was going to intimidate Susan Bones, he knew that she was sorely mistaken. There were probably a dozen other villagers surrounding them in a loose circle. Justin noticed that all of them were witches; there wasn’t a wizard to be found among them. He filed the observation away since it did nothing to improve their weak tactical position.

 

“We’re Aurors, from the Ministry of Magic,” Susan replied. If it was possible, Matill’s scowl grew even fiercer. “So to your first point, her safety and well-being _are_ our concern. We won’t permit you to subject her to any ritual that could harm her or her baby. To your second point, the only reason we don’t understand what we’re meddling in is you didn’t answer my question.”

 

“The Ministry has no say in this,” Matill fired back. “Our ritual is ancient beyond history. The Wizard’s Council was but a-”

 

The old crone stirring the cauldron suddenly threw back her head and let out a blood-curdling scream. The other witches surrounding them slowly joined in until the entire forest echoed with their other-worldly cries of anguish. Justin stole a look at Susan, who was still clutching Leda’s elbow as the young woman wailed. By the time the screams died away, Justin was chilled to the bone.

 

“Ealdemo’or’s passing is upon us,” shouted the youngest of the three witches who’d been tending the cauldron. The old crone raised her wand in the air, causing the great metal stirring rod to rise from the boiling potion. She conjured a glass phial and reached out with it, catching a measure of the steaming, red liquid dripping from the end of the rod. All eyes were on her as she waved her wand over the phial and muttered an incantation that Justin was unable to follow. The red potion flashed brightly for a moment before turning clear.

 

The crone hobbled toward Leda with the potion. Her eyes were surrounded by sagging flesh and clouded by cataracts. Still she made her way to the young woman as though they were the only two people in the forest. The circle of witches closed in around them and Justin released his wand into his hand with a twist of his wrist. They seemed to be at a point where escalating the situation made little difference.

 

“Our old mother is ready to begin anew.” The old woman’s gravely voice came in harsh bursts. She held the phial out toward Leda. “She awaits the flesh of your flesh. From the blood of your blood, she will be reborn. Do you accept this honor?”

 

“Stay away from her!” Susan snarled. Her wand was in her hand and she leveled it at the old crone’s chest. Justin heard footsteps scraping against the forest floor behind them and he spun around to find the circle of witches closing in. Some of them held worn, ancient-looking wands. Others merely glared at him through cold, emotionless eyes. Susan yanked on Leda’s elbow, pulling the girl between their backs. “You can’t have her baby for this... _ritual_.”

 

Justin caught a flick of motion out of the corner of his eye and managed to raise a shield in time to deflect a sickly yellow spell. He heard a pair of cracks behind him and realized that Susan had also been forced to defend herself. All of the witches surrounding them had raised their wands. He turned aside another spell and swept one of the witches’ feet out from underneath her with a jinx. In spite of their vastly superior numbers, the spells the attackers used were cast verbally and easy to block. Justin had faced far worse. If he could defend himself without hurting any of them, maybe they could turn the fight back into a conversation. At least that was his hope as he swatted away a barrage of multicolored spells.

 

“We don’t have time for this!” Matill shouted, drawing her own wand. “Leda, come. Now!”

 

“She isn’t going anywhere,” Susan snarled, blocking a pair of spells from her left. “Not until you explain what’s going on.”

 

A spell slammed into Justin’s shield, inches from his face. He felt the crack echo through his molars. The situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. “Grab her and go, Suze!” he shouted. With a wide sweep of his wand, he cast a shimmering wall of light that drove back the attackers. A loud pop sounded behind him and he felt the weight of Leda’s body disappear from his back. Susan must have taken her to safety. He spun around, ready to swat away a few more spells and then disapparate himself. Instead of finding a mob of angry witches staring at empty space, he saw Susan’s limp body slumping to the ground and Leda pointing a wand at him.

 

Justin barely managed to block a powerful spell from one of the old witches. A fraction of a second later, he felt a searing pain in his back. He tried to turn and defend himself, but another spell struck his exposed side. A sickening ache spread outward from the places he’d been cursed. Even as he tried to cast a shield charm, Justin’s elbows instinctively drew in to protect his sides. Two more of the yellow spells splattered across his shield charm before it gave way. He managed to cast another, but it was weaker than before. His body was quickly losing the battle against the curses he’d been struck with.

 

A loud moan was driven from Susan’s lungs as one of the spells hit her prone form. Justin’s magic was no longer strong enough to protect both of them. With the last of his strength, he threw his battered body on top of her, trying to shield her from further harm. Dropping his wand, he desperately thrust his hand into his sleeve, searching for the emergency portkey that all of the Aurors carried. Numbness was settling into his extremities and his fingers fumbled against the loose fabric of his robes. Another spell impacted his side and his arm fell limply away. Somewhere nearby, he could hear the old crone cackling madly. His ears were ringing as his head fell to the ground beside Susan’s arm. The pain in his extremities was so severe that he could no longer distinguish the individual spells that continued to pelt him.

 

“Stop!” The voice that reached his ears was muffled and distant. It sounded like Leda, but different somehow. As the rain of curses ceased, Justin was able to make it out more clearly. It did seem to be the young woman’s voice, but imbued with an authority that was completely foreign to her shrinking demeanor and her big, fearful eyes.

 

“They know how to find us!” Matill’s coarse, loud words thundered from somewhere nearby. “They know of the ritual, of Ealdemo’or’s rebirth.”

 

“They know nothing of the ritual,” Leda replied firmly. “And you really believe that they found us on their own?” The question hung in the still air, unanswered. “They’re not the only ones who know. But they are the only ones who’ve come looking. If you murder them, that will change.”

 

“You’re not thinking clearly, Leda,” snarled Matill. “You’re with child. Your brain is addled. If we let them go back to the others, if we let them tell what they’ve seen her tonight, their Ministry will hunt us down. We’ll be destroyed. I’m only doing what must be done.” Justin heard the swishing of fabric and footsteps moving toward him.

 

“Mind your place, Matill.” The oldest crone’s dry, crackling voice was barely audible, yet it seemed to bring the entire world to a halt. Justin didn’t dare to draw a breath. He heard three more footsteps, lighter than Matill’s heavy strides. A second later, the loud crack of skin against skin rang out and echoed through the trees.

 

“You’re the one who can’t see clearly, Matill.” Leda’s voice was cold and commanding. “These bodies have blinded you. You forget the truth that lies below the surface.” Only the sounds of the forest reached Justin’s ears as the young woman’s words awaited a challenge that did not come. “You will respect the wisdom of your elders.”

 

“It is time,” called the oldest crone. “The ritual must begin.” Justin heard the rustling of feet against the ground as the residents of the village moved past the spot where he lay. He kept his eyes closed, which wasn’t a particular challenge after being hit with so many spells. Beneath him, he could feel Susan’s shallow breathing. For the moment, that would have to do.

 

The noises made by the villagers gradually faded into the roar and crackle of the fire. Justin waited patiently, in case someone was watching. Getting himself and Susan to safety was his top priority, but their physical condition make it a daunting challenge. Even if he could reach the emergency portkey in his sleeve, he doubted that he had the strength to hold onto his companion throughout the swirling, twisting journey. In spite of the danger, he had to admit that he was more than a little curious to find out about this ritual that the primitives guarded so fiercely. Another loud cry rang out from the direction the the great cauldron. It was quickly joined by the voices of all the villagers. Measuring the sounds and echoes carefully, Justin concluded that none of them were standing near him. He allowed his eyelids to part just a sliver.

 

Under the watchful eyes of the old crone, a heavy wooden chair was being levitated toward the cauldron. Seated in the chair was a frail, shrunken human form wrapped in heavy blankets. From around her weather-worn face, long strands of white hair fluttered in the rush of heated air from the fire. When the chair gently settled to the ground, the witch known as Matill knelt before it and reverentially lifted the long, gold chain from around the dying woman’s neck. As Matill stepped away, the old crone turned to face the villagers.

 

“This body has carried our sister Niamh down the long path. The body can go no further but the path leads on. Who will offer our sister a new way forward?”

 

Leda emerged from the crowd, leaning heavily on two of the other witches for support. Even through the haze of pain, Justin could tell that she could barely stand. “I offer Niamh... a new way forward,” she gasped through clenched teeth.

 

“The circle will begin anew,” the old crone cried. With a wave of her wand, a table was summoned to sit beside the village elder’s chair. The other witches helped Leda onto the table, easing the girl onto her back. She cried out in pain and the other witches joined her with their unearthly howls. A slow procession began, bodies following an inaudible cadence as they circled the boiling cauldron and danced through the thin shafts of moonlight. Fire and magic swirled in the night as the witches stamped their feet and waved their arms above their heads. It was terrifying and beautiful in equal measure.

 

A new cry joined the feral screams of the witches, the piercing cry of a newborn babe thrust into a cold and frightening world. One of the old women held the baby triumphantly in the air, and the circle of witches erupted in a volley of celebratory shouts.

 

“Niamh shall be reborn.” To his horror, Justin realized that the old witch holding the baby was moving toward the seething cauldron. “We consecrate this body to the spirit of our sister, so that she may resume the long path.”

 

In spite of the pain, in spite of the danger, Justin tried to lurch toward the circle of witches. Tried to reach his wand. It was all for naught; his battered body simply would not answer the call. With a flick of her wand, the oldest crone levitated the dying witch’s body into the air. It rose above the writhing circle of bodies, illuminated by the ever-shifting light of the fire. For a moment, the damp body of the screaming, red-faced baby boy was fully visible in the moonlight, against the black garb that clothed the old woman’s body. Justin had no choice but to watch in mute horror as both the dying and the newly born disappeared into the cauldron.

 

Emerald flames rose into the sky, illuminating the village and the surrounding forest. As the villagers continued to howl and shriek, two fiery orbs emerged from the roiling potion. They raced through the night air, winding a tight circle around the cauldron. The old crone gestured with her wand, and the two orbs began to spiral inward, drawing ever closer. When they came together, a blinding flash lit up the forest clearing. Justin allowed his eyes to close. Without the dancing shadows to conceal the signs of consciousness, the risk was to great to take. Beneath him, he felt a low vibration emanating from Susan’s chest and he prayed to whatever deity might listen that she would remain still.

 

“Our sister Niamh is reborn!” The old crone’s gravelly cry rose above the roar of the flames. Shouts of elation echoed through the forest clearing. He could no longer see the eerie green glow through his eyelids, so Justin chanced another peek. Floating above the massive cauldron was a small, pink body, twisting and writhing in the chilly night air. With a gentle dip of her wand, the old crone guided the crying newborn down and into the waiting arms of the villagers. Before the child was swaddled in blankets, Justin couldn’t help but notice that the distinguishing feature of the baby boy Leda had given birth to was no longer present.

 

The small throng of witches surrounding Leda parted and with helping hands supporting her slender frame, the young woman walked unsteadily to the chair where the village elder had spent her final moments. The bundle of blankets was placed in her arms and she clutched the baby girl tenderly to her chest. The villagers fell silent, but Justin was barely able to make out her soft words. “Naimh is ready to rejoin us on the long path.” Another chorus of celebration rose from the villagers.

 

Matill stepped forward from the crowd and fell to her knees in front of Leda and the baby. She raised her hands above her head. The gold chain she’d removed from the dying witch’s body dangled from her fingers. The youngest of the three witches who’d been minding the cauldron produced a single golden loop from the folds of her dress. Holding it against the long chain, she tapped it with her wand. A shower of golden sparks erupted, briefly illuminating Leda and her baby. When Justin’s eyes readjusted to the darkness, he saw that the chain had become one link longer. Matill gently draped it over the newborn girl.

 

The oldest crone moved behind Leda’s chair and addressed the circle of villagers. “The path has no beginning and no end. For those who remain true, it grows longer as we walk.” A murmur of agreement rippled through the witches. “Follow me, and we will walk the long path together.”

 

“Yes, Ealdemo’or,” the villagers chorused in response. The ancient witch bowed her head slightly, acknowledging the title bestowed upon her.

 

“What of them?” Justin realized that Matill was pointing in their direction and he allowed his eyes to drift closed again. Cold fear gripped his insides. To have survived the Dark Lord only to have it all end like this.

 

“Yes, I suppose we need to deal with them.” Leda’s voice sounded shaky, but stronger. Justin heard the rustle of footsteps against the bare earth draw nearer. He held his breath and waited.

 

“I still say they know too much,” Matill insisted. Though her words were disdainful, they had lost the fierce certainty she had shown before Leda’s physical rebuke.

 

“Patience, young one,” Leda replied, her words at odds with the soft lilt of her voice. “In time, you’ll discover that knowledge counts for little without the will to act on it. And I’ll be giving these two something far more pressing to worry about.”

 

Justin couldn’t help himself. His eyes snapped open just in time to see Leda level her wand at him. He tried with all his might to roll to the side, but the jet of red light struck him in the chest and the world went dark.

  


* * *

  


Throbbing pain pulsed behind his eyes. He became aware of the pain before anything else. Every heartbeat seemed to pound against the inside of his skull, threatening the split his head open. A soft moan escaped his lips. Somewhere nearby, he heard voices and the soft tapping of shoes against floor tiles.

 

“I think he’s waking up.”

 

“Heartbeat and blood pressure holding steady.”

 

“He’ll need another round of potions soon.”

 

“Someone let his partner know.”

 

Slowly, painfully, Justin dragged his arm from his side toward his face, meaning to squeeze the bridge of his nose. Halfway along its journey, his hand was halted by the firm grasp of cold, dry fingers.

 

“Please try to lie still, Mr. Finch-Fletchley. You’ve suffered a lot of curse damage. Moving doesn’t help at all.”

 

“Stop. Talking. Please.” The raspy croak of his own voice made Justin’s head ache even worse.

 

He felt a cold hand slip beneath the back of his neck and a glass vial press against his lips. “Drink this. It will help with the pain.” A strong, bitter liquid began to slowly drain into his mouth and Justin did his best to force it down his parched throat. It felt as though minutes passed between each heartbeat, but the stabbing pain in his head gradually faded to a dull ache. He blinked his eyes a few times, trying to adjust to the room’s bright lights.

 

“How is he doing?” Justin heard a familiar voice somewhere outside of the room.

 

“He’s only just come around, but I don’t expect it to last for very long. He’s lucky to be all in one piece.” The Healer’s assessment certainly aligned with how Justin was feeling. He couldn’t readily identify any part of his body that didn’t hurt. Every movement sent sharp pains through his extremities.

 

“I understand. There are just some things I need to...” Susan’s voice was uncharacteristically soft and uncertain. “Just... Auror things, you know.”

 

“Of course. _Auror things_.” The Healer sounded equal parts sympathetic and frustrated. “Someday when I retire, I’m going to buy myself a boat and name it after you lot. The HMS Auror Department. One more dark wizard and I’ll be able to afford a yacht...”

 

The Healer continued on for a while, but Justin wasn’t really listening. Susan’s silence spoke volumes. When the Healer finally left the two of them alone, he gave her a weak smile. “Good to see you up and about,” he whispered.

 

“Thanks to you,” she replied softly. He could almost feel the emotion churning just beneath her calm demeanor and if he hadn’t been exhausted and looped on painkilling portions, he was sure he would have been in a similar state. The last time he’d seen her... 

 

“How did we get here?” Justin blurted out just as Susan asked, “What happened back there?”

 

There was a moment of shocked silence before they both dissolved into quiet laughter. It felt good to see his partner smile, even though the his own chuckles were shooting spasms of pain through his ribcage. The pain must have been evident on his face, because Susan’s smile quickly faded into a look of concern. “Why don’t I start?” she offered. “You must have activated your emergency portkey somehow. According to Neville, we landed in a heap in the Auror Office around one in the morning. Good thing Harry and Ron found us instead of Dawlish. We might still be lying there.” 

 

Justin stared at the ceiling for a moment. Her revelation created one more mystery to ponder. He realized that Susan was staring at him expectantly and tried to decide where to begin. There didn’t seem to be any point in sugarcoating the truth. “It was Leda,” he said softly. “She knocked you out with a spell while you were trying to reason with the one called Matill.”

 

“But why?” Susan looked horrified and confused. “That _ritual_ , her baby...”

 

“It’s... complicated,” Justin replied weakly. “Mad, really.” Then he told her everything he was able to remember. The fight. The argument between Leda and Matill. The ritual. The chain. Susan’s expression shifted between horrified, infuriated and sad. She tried again and again to apologize for turning her back on the young woman, leaving them exposed to the deception. “You couldn’t have known, Suze,” Justin reassured gently. “As far as we could tell, she was young and helpless and terrified. You just did what you thought was right.”

 

As Justin relayed Leda’s parting words, something clicked in his mind. “I think she was the one who activated the portkey. It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”

 

Susan nodded her head thoughtfully, having made a connection of her own. “More sense than you realize.” She reached into the depths of her cloak and pulled out a rough-hewn piece of parchment. “Ron found a message in your pocket. He made a copy for me before they left St. Mungos.” She lifted the parchment to eye level and started to read.

 

_To Our Esteemed Visitors,_

_First, I must apologize for the less than cordial welcome you received in our humble village._

 

Justin snorted mirthlessly. “‘Less than cordial welcome’? I suppose that’s their term for attempted murder.” Susan nodded in agreement and continued to read.

 

_We are not used to receiving visitors. As you may imagine, our customs are not easy for outsiders to understand._

 

“She has a gift for understatement.”

 

Susan huffed theatrically and rolled her eyes. “Save your snarky comments and I might finish reading this before the Healers let you go.”

 

_In spite of our difficulties, I wanted you to know that I was deeply touched by your concern for my own well being and that of my child. By now, though, you must now realize that your concern was misplaced. Our family will see to our needs and protect us by whatever means necessary. This has been our custom since the beginning times._

_The wizard Avery that you are seeking passed through our village a fortnight ago, seeking gold and shelter. Our lifestyle affords us limited means and we had no desire to become involved in his unsavory affiliations. For these reasons, we sent him on his way.”_

 

“I hope he got the same warm, caring sendoff that we did,” Justin remarked bitterly. Susan gave him another half-hearted glare and resumed her reading.

 

_While we have no direct knowledge of his destination, one of our village elders who was raised alongside Avery’s mother recalled that his family owns ancestral lands in the Welsh Highlands. Perhaps this information will help you to locate him._

_In closing, I would like to offer my sincere assurance that it was never our desire to cause you harm. The life we have chosen is not an easy one, and we’ve come to fear outsiders, no matter how well intentioned. By the time you read this letter, our family will have moved to a new location. I ask that you do not attempt to find us. It would be a tragedy if we were to suffer any further misunderstandings._

_Hoping this letter finds you well,  
Leda_

 

Justin pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to fend off another headache that seemed to be coming on. “So she threw Avery under the bloody bus and ended the letter with a threat.” Susan nodded glumly. He drew a slow breath and hissed, “Brilliant” as he let it out.

 

Susan folded the parchment and returned it to her cloak pocket. “Terry and Neville have already been back to the village. They couldn’t find any hint of where they might have gone.”

 

Biting back another bitter comment, Justin forced a weak smile onto his face. It was obvious that Susan was taking the case personally. “They didn’t have the benefit of our best crime scene investigator,” he said, nodding toward her.

 

She gave him a half-hearted smile in return, but the sadness quickly returned to her face. “I thought she was scared for her baby. It never occurred to me that the baby needed protection from her.” A tear slid down her cheek. “How many innocent little babies have lost their lives so that those... monsters can go on living?”

 

Justin thought about reaching out to lay his hand on her arm, but he felt the twinge of pain in his shoulder and settled for words of reassurance. “We’ll find them, Suze. We’ll find them and put a stop to this.”

 

Wiping her eyes dry with the backs of her hands, Susan stared grimly ahead. “Harry’s already talked to Minister Shacklebolt. The rest of the team has set up shop near Avery’s ancestral family land in Wales.” There was a slight edge of bitterness in her voice, but she mostly just sounded weary. “As soon as I’m done debriefing you, I’m to join them.”

 

“But Harry doesn’t know-” Justin sputtered. He tried to sit up, but his body immediately reminded him what an awful idea that was. Grunting in pain, he collapsed back onto the bed. He spent a long moment concentrating on not passing out. When he opened his eyes, Susan was staring at him with a look of deep concern. “Harry doesn’t know,” he repeated softly. “When he finds out about them, he’ll want to stop them as much as we do. They’re monsters. They’re evil. They’re-”

 

“They’re not putting muggles under the Imperius Curse and murdering them for fun,” Susan replied gently, cutting him off. Justin both admired and hated how practical her words sounded. “They’re not on the list of most wanted Death Eaters. They’re not a daily embarrassment to the Ministry.”

 

A low growl of frustration reverberated through Justin’s chest. “We’ll get them Suze. I promise. Maybe not tomorrow or the next day, but once we catch Avery, we’ll find them again.”

 

Susan took a deep breath and nodded in agreement. “We have to. Anyone who could do that to her own baby is capable of anything.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, and thank you for reading. This is the first new story I've posted in almost a year. It feels very good to be writing again.
> 
> In case you were wondering, I'm not sure yet whether we've seen the last of Leda and her family. If I can think of another good plot involving them, they'll be back.
> 
> If you enjoyed the story, I always appreciate comments and kudos.


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